


Listen To My Voice and Breathe

by Adventures_in_Writing



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Panic Attacks, platonic tuckington
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:27:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5101139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adventures_in_Writing/pseuds/Adventures_in_Writing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That’s all you need to do right now: listen to my voice and breathe.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Listen To My Voice and Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt received on [ my Tumblr](http://an-adventure-in-writing.tumblr.com/): there was one drawing i think papanorth did a while ago of wash comforting tucker and they were kinda cuddling? the caption was something along the lines of tucker being new to the stresses of war and wash being new to the healing effects of physical affection. and in the tags was stuff about wash guiding tucker through panic attacks and things. can you please write something off that?
> 
> [ the above mentioned artwork on Papanorth's Tumblr ](http://papanorth.tumblr.com/post/128671268436/tucker-is-new-to-the-stress-of-actual-war-wash)
> 
> What I have written here is based upon my own experiences with dealing with panic attacks and is by no means the only way to handle them or help those who suffer from them.

The first time he had felt warm arms, strong and tight holding him close, Wash had froze. He didn’t know what to make of it. He couldn’t figure out what Tucker was doing or why he was doing it so he stayed there, standing still as a rock whilst Tucker hugged him.   
  
The feeling of those arms around him, almost keeping him together, lingered long after Tucker had stopped.   
  
Wash couldn’t figure out a pattern nor could he see a reason for the random hugs that Tucker gave to him, but he found that when Tucker called his name, a hand on his shoulder, guiding him closer, Wash would willingly walk or lean into Tucker’s warm embrace. His eyes would close, or he would rest his head in the crook of Tucker’s neck. The fifth time Tucker pulled him into a hug, Wash managed to voice the questing that had been plaguing him.  
  
“Why?”   
  
“Hugs make everything better when you’re having a bad day.”  
  
Hugs were warm and safe and loving. They soothed his nerves, calmed his mind and for a moment filled him with peace. It was strange and new and not unwelcome.  
  
He never knew that being hugged by someone could make things seem so much better.

 

*****

Tucker hadn’t been feeling right all day. It had been a hellish week where nothing had gone right and he felt like he was to blame for it all. He had responsibilities now and he’d fucked up every single one of them. It was disheartening and frustrating and made him feel worthless.  
  
It came from nowhere.   
  
He’d noticed the tension in his muscles all day but had thought nothing of it, but no matter how much he focused on trying to stop, his hands refused to stay steady. They visibly trembled and he folded his hands behind his back, fists clenched trying to get them to stop. The room was too bright, the noise was too loud. His heart pounded and his chest grew tight.  
  
Tucker didn’t know what was happening, but he needed to get away. He needed to get away — right now! — from everything.  
  
He silently excused himself from the room, hastily making his way to the closest quiet place he could find. His breathing quickened and his hands trembled more violently. He fumbled with the handle on the door to Wash’s quarters, his hands shaking so badly that it was almost impossible to grip. He stumbled into the room, gasping for air, the tightness of his chest causing him to panic even more. Thank God he hadn’t been in his armour. He pulled at the collar of his shirt, trying to alleviate the constricting feeling around his neck as he curled up into a ball, violent shudders coursing through him as he gasped.   
He had his eyes squeezed shut as he shook, his mind whirling at a million miles an hour trying to figure out what was wrong.  
  
“Tucker?”  
  
The only sound he made was a loud sob as he drew a breath and tried to speak.  
  
Within seconds, Wash was kneeling beside him, concern etched into his features.  
  
Tucker curled in on himself even more. He didn’t want Wash to see him like this: trembling and shaking uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face as he struggled to draw breath. He didn’t want Wash — someone he looked up to, someone who was strong and capable — to see him so weak.  
  
“Can you breathe? I’m going to help you sit up, okay?”  
  
Gently, Wash helped Tucker sit up and took a seat beside him on the bed, his back leaning against the wall. Supporting Tucker so that he was sitting upright and leaning forward a little, he wrapped his arms around Tucker’s shoulders.  
  
“Tucker, I need you to focus just on my voice, okay? I need you to just listen to what I’m saying and think the words along with me as I say them.”  
  
Tucker trembled in Wash’s grasp and he struggled to say something.  
  
“It’s okay. I want you to focus on breathing in time with the words I say. That’s all you need to do right now, Tucker: listen to my voice and breathe. I am breathing in...I am breathing out...I am breathing in...I am breathing out...”  
  
Wash stayed with Tucker, gently instructing him to breathe in and out. Occasionally he would check in with Tucker, to ask if he was breathing a little easier. Tucker managed a nod and Wash kept the calm pace despite Tucker’s confirmation he wasn’t having difficulty. As Tucker’s breathing eased, Wash slowly allowed Tucker to rest against his chest, loosely wrapping his arms around him in a hug. All the while, Wash continued to tell Tucker to breathe in and out.  He didn’t want to hold Tucker too tightly in case he felt constricted. His body still shook, through the tremors were getting fewer and fewer as the minutes passed. His voice remained calm and quiet, an anchor point for Tucker’s mind to focus on as the panic attack ran its course.  
  
“Are you feeling a little better now?”  
  
Tucker nodded.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“There is nothing to apologise for, Tucker.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“Tucker. I said you have nothing to apologise for.” Wash kept his voice gentle. He could related to how Tucker was feeling right now: Helpless, weak and as though he were an inconvenience.   
  
Tucker fell silent, snuggling against Wash’s chest, relishing the warmth.   
  
“Will you stay with me for a while?”  
  
Wash shifted, allowing himself to sit a little more comfortably now that Tucker’s panic attack had passed.  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Can you hold me?”  
  
Wordlessly, Wash pulled Tucker a little tighter against him, recalling how it felt whenever Tucker held him.  
  
“Thanks, Wash.”  
  
“Hugs make everything feel at least a little better.”


End file.
